


The Arusian's Castle

by MarcellaEReeves



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Arcades, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Memory Loss, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Rivalry, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), a little of both tbh, but boyfriends because it's TEEEN lol, they're enemies for all of five seconds tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-12-30 14:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaEReeves/pseuds/MarcellaEReeves
Summary: The first KO sent an icy chill down into the pit of his stomach.The second KO tightened a band across his chest, tightening like a straight jacket and preventing Keith from breathing properly. There was only ever one person who could beat him so easily, who had made a mockery of him so callously. He stood on trembling legs, unwilling to put words to how he was feeling. He needed to see. Look his tormentor in the eyes. There was only one person who could beat him.Black was his opponent, Black was sitting on the other side of the machine, Black had just won.Keith’s mouth was dry, heart pounding against his chest as he extended to his full height to peer over the cabinet. Only Black was doing the same, smiling and extending his hand like it was a normal thing to do. Keith had obviously stared for longer than he realised, taking in every detail of the man opposite - the white forelock, delicate pink scar over the bridge of his nose, open and welcoming expression - because suddenly the man looked sheepish and withdrew his hand.‘You’re Red, right?’Keith finds a friend in the arcade, Shiro finds a purpose. They both find each other.





	1. Legendary Defender

Keith slammed his fist against the console, staring back at the _Game Over_ screen and barely suppressing a growl. For weeks he’d been taunted by the newest high scorer wiping out his best attempt with some kind of sadism. Keith had always been at the top of the leaderboards on all of the games in The Arusian’s Castle - the only arcade in the city of Altea that still had late 80’s classic “ _Legendary Defender”,_ and the only arcade Keith bothered coming to because of that reason.  
  
He played all of the games for fun because he was untouchable. Every screen in the building proudly displaying  <RED> as the top scorer in every slot, his handle reigning supreme for months.

Until last week.   
  
<BLK> had appeared suddenly as the high scorer, as if some demon had plucked the name from thin air just to make a mockery of his pride. Keith had taken a double-take, convinced of some trick designed to humiliate him - the name seemed especially designed to add insult to injury. He finally let rage overcome him when he tried to shift the stain and found it impossible, only to realise only the first slot was taken by the newcomer - he’d beaten him on his favourite game on the first try. Keith swore so loudly the owner, Mr Coran, had asked him to leave.  
  
He’d been back every day since, piling quarter after quarter into the vintage machine in an almost hysterical attempt to scrub the name free. Whoever this person was hadn’t been back since the _incident_ , and Keith crushed the part of himself that was glad not to be humiliated even more. He didn’t need relief. He was glad to get a worthy opponent. He wasn’t living up to his own potential because no one had challenged him before and he hadn’t practised. _He was glad to get a worthy opponent._

Somedays he had to remind himself of that. Today was one of those days. His scores were worse than ever, each playthrough worse than the last. <BLK> was a curse on his psyche, and now his foster parents had noticed. The “problem child with behavioural issues” spent longer and longer out of the house, asking for more money each day with the excuse of wanting to go to the arcade, and becoming withdrawn at dinner. They’d started sharing the same shifty looks with each other that all of his foster parents had before they got rid of him. He couldn’t go before he’d removed that name from his scoreboard. 

Keith dug around his pocket, fingers scraping against a single quarter. The last of his allowance - they’d told him as much before he’d left for school that morning. He pressed it against the coin slot, forcing a few slow breaths before letting it drop through the opening and taking ahold of the two horizontal joysticks. _Legendary Defender_ was highly advanced for its time, (although it was mostly kept around as a novelty now) Mr Coran’s favourite game as a child, and he'd used one of the levels to form the namesake of the arcade. It was Keith’s favourite too. 

The game started and Keith breezed through the first few levels, a “rescue the princess” space adventure set behind the controls of a giant alien war machine. He breathed slowly as wave after wave of “Galra” drones swarmed out to meet their end, tiny pixels exploding across the screen as he picked up graze points from their lasers. A Galra Commander opened dialogue and Keith skipped through it - he had memorised it by heart a long time ago and it would only distract from his perfect run. A battleship appeared, along with more drones and Keith adjusted his grip, familiar excitement clawing at his gut. The ion blasts that battleship emitted nearly filled the whole screen, but the graze was immense, and when he got close enough he twisted his right hand up and pushed forward, a large sword slicing up the battleship and destroying it in a flurry of power-ups and health recovery items.  
  
After the Commander came the General with his warship and a fleet of battleships, their ion blasts crossing and leaving only a few small spaces for Keith to fly into that were free. The attacks overlapped, becoming almost artistic in their geometry and Keith could feel the back of his neck grow damp with exertion. He pulled off a move that could only be described as risky, relying more on instinct than his memory of this level and scoring a huge boost in points as a reward, taking out the General’s battleship in the process in one direct hit. The other two battleships were automatically destroyed, and he collected the rewards with a quick rotation of his left hand.

A pause came with the Emperor’s dialogue and Keith used it to stretch and release the breath he’d been holding, steadying his nerves. Nodding to himself he brushed past the villain’s commendation and got to the fight, the flagship and her entourage of warships represented with purple and yellow pixels. He focused his vision on the small circle that represented his hitbox as the overlapping ion beams painted the screen almost completely white and dragging a small growl from the back of Keith’s throat at the challenge. It was still a challenge even after playing it most of his life: the attack patterns were randomised, relying on the user’s position to change formation. Expert fingers twisted the right joystick around and his sword attack took a flamed edge from all the power-ups he’d gathered.   
  
Slicing two deft swipes across the flagship, Keith ended the game and held his breath. The Arusian Princess thanked him for his heroic services before asking his name, and with trembling fingers, Keith entered his handle before the _Game Over_ screen flashed at him again.

  1. <RED>
  2. <BLK>
  3. <RED>



A scream tore its way from his chest as he released the breath he’d held, fist punching into the air before strangers crowded around him to congratulate him. The sudden attention was overwhelming, especially because he hadn’t even realised he was being watched. Even Mr Coran was patting his shoulder and suddenly the attention was too much. A painful knot twisted in his stomach as he picked up his jacket and backed out towards the entrance before running towards home.   
  
Despite the audience, pride still swelled in his chest at his victory, and he walked the rest of the way with a spring in his step.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! I don't bite~
> 
> Tumblr: marcellaereeves.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/MarcellaEReeves


	2. The Second Player

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. The fact is I've had some horrific realisation strike me since uploading C1: this fic is turning into a monster.

His euphoria lasted him through the night and through school. Even the insults about his family didn't hit him as deeply, and the October air didn't feel as cold as he walked home, footsteps following the familiar path to The Arusian's Castle. Keith didn't have any money to play, but he went inside anyway if for nothing more than to stroke his own ego.   
  
That didn't happen. Instead, a strangled cry of despair escaped his throat and he struggled to breathe as his chest constricted. Where his name should have been proudly displayed instead _that tag_ was there. Black had wiped away his high score overnight like some demon hell-bent on destroying him. Keith's hands shook as he balled them into fists, trying to keep the heat behind his eyes from embarrassing him. No matter how much he tried to tell himself it was just a game, the thought of being so easily bested crashed over him in a wave of shame.

Keith couldn't stand the thought of being caught crying in public, so when Mr Coran approached him tentatively he turned away, scrubbing his face in an attempt to appear somewhat put together.   
  
'Keith, my boy?'  
  
At least he kept his distance this time, and Keith was grateful for that.  
  
'I thought you might want a distraction, I had a few new machines delivered last night and I wanted to see if you'd be up for testing them, give them a proper run to see what they're made of - on the house of course.'

Keith let out a hollow chuckle. 

'What, couldn't find Black to do it for you?' The bitter edge to his voice made Mr Coran wince before he wandered over to the other side of the room. Keith followed behind and was confronted with a row of three two-player arcade machines. The fighting game was the latest in a series he'd played countless times before and even though it wasn't as enjoyable as _Legendary Defender,_ the series was more popular and the machines displayed that. Cutting neon blue lights outlined the sleek white metal of the cabinets, graphics loudly encouraging players to fight opposite each other. Rather than play side-by-side, the machines were designed to be anonymous with each player sitting at one end and allowing strangers to play together without having to speak to one another.  
  
Keith sat down on the stool, unfolding his arms and reaching for the controls as Mr Coran inserted a coin.  
  
'So you just want me to test it?'  
  
'Yes! Just make sure all the buttons work at speed and the joystick isn't too sensitive. When they're new from the factory like this sometimes they put too much grease in the mechanisms and it makes them sticky. I remember once when I was a young arcade owner…'

Keith had already tuned out, choosing to focus on which character to play as before finally selecting the ninja thief "Akira". He ran through basic commands, noting the updated move set and how the input speed requirement had been reduced before choosing a stage and setting the AI to the hardest level.   
  
The computer struggled to match his commands as he put it through its paces, testing the machine more than the game. Keith slouched back in the stool, feeling the muscles on his forehead wrinkling. Fighting games didn't appeal to him anymore since the outcome was always the same.

Predictably the perfect victory screen flashed before he was asked to continue. 'It seems fine, Mr Coran.' He drawled, suddenly remembering the reason he was sitting here at all instead of walking home. His fist clenched around the joystick. 'The controls are responsive and I couldn't feel any tackiness or sticking. Do you want me to test the other machines or can I go-'   
  
The screen flashed in warning.  
  
'Oh! Looks like you've got a challenger my boy!' Mr Coran looked over the top of the machine and then smiled at him whilst waving another coin in front of his face, leaning in close like they were talking about some covert operation despite the suspicious grin he wore under his moustache. ‘Are you sure you don't want to have just one more go?'  
  
Keith's lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned away, but he took the coin anyway and pressed it into the machine, mumbling a 'thanks' under his breath. The screen returned to the character select menu, and he chose Akira again, opting for his black and purple bodysuit. His opponent had already chosen because when he confirmed he was immediately taken to the stage loading screen and Akira's card was cut against that of "The Champion". Keith rolled his eyes - Champion was a former boss from a previous game that every angsty teenage boy with no talent wanted to play as, choosing instead to retaliate with insults about implied homosexuality and having sex with mothers instead of actually being good enough to win. He was a slow and cumbersome character, prioritising violent hard hits and throws instead of speed. Most people thought he was “top tier”. Keith thought they were desperately holding onto a time when his character was a decent villain, instead of a hollowed out antihero with a typically tragic backstory.

  
"The Arena" stage loaded, and Akira materialised out from behind a flurry of flames whilst The Champion dropped down from above. Keith absentmindedly wondered if this person knew they'd gotten lucky, picking a stage with a sandy floor would reduce Akira's speed and increase Champion's agility, but then he pushed the thought away as the countdown to begin ended.  
  
Keith launched Akira forward, intent to get this done with so he could go home, his deft fingers sliding across the console and making Akira land the first three hits of the combo unbroken; Champion's player choosing to block instead and painting a smirk on Keith's face. The fourth hit was a guard breaker and Akira's fist charged with flames a half second before it hit.  
  
…Only it didn't hit. The Champion countered his punch and threw him into the wall of The Arena. Before Keith could react his opponent was over him, dropping through the air to land a fist on Akira's face. Keith rolled his character away, vaguely noticing that half of his health had been taken in the attack. He kicked out at The Champion's knee, barely doing damage but keeping him in animation lock long enough for Akira to stand. Keith backed away whilst keeping his guard up, allowing himself time to think about how to win. He wiped the sweat from his palm on the top of his trousers, watching as The Champion leaned back with open arms and emitted purple lightning from his hands. Not his standard idle animation.  
  
_A taunt._

A shout gave birth in Keith's throat as Akira ran forward, dodging the grab by feinting under The Champion's legs before twisting up and kicking him squarely in the back, knocking him across the ring. His speed was taking a hit on this stage, but he made up the difference by using the ninja's ghosting teleportation to follow Champion's trajectory and slid into a low kick. The Champion arched up from the ground - more animation lock, and Keith's eyes widened as he realised his opponent's weakness: Akira wasn't strong but he was fast, including his recovery time, The Champion hit harder (he'd only lost a quarter of his health from Keith's entire combo) but he did suffer longer animation locks.   
  
Keith just needed to keep him constantly locked to win. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth at the thought as his pulse quickened in his ears. Whoever this person was, they were going to loose.

  
Akira continued with Keith's onslaught. It was obvious that his opponent knew Akira's standard combos, so he had to keep breaking them or feinting to stop himself being thrown again. It made the fight harder; the only guard breakers Akira owned were at the ends of combos and The Champion's player was a perfect blocker, matching his guards blow-for-blow to the hit areas Keith aimed for. He couldn't break through, and his hand was starting to cramp from how hard he was holding onto the joystick. He just needed a break to unleash his plan, yet this person was just guarding and breaking his grabs like a coward.  
  
His opening came suddenly, and in the form of a lightning-charged fist aimed at Akira's face.

His opening went just as suddenly when that fist connected, powered up by one bar of charged energy he'd accumulated from guarding so well. Akira's own animation lock was long enough for him to be pulled into a grab, and Keith furiously mashed the buttons to try and escape the combo.   
  
He didn't know The Champion's move set well enough to actively counter the punishment rained down upon him, every AI and player that he'd faced against had been content to throw basic punches and grabs, trying to win by overpowering through Akira's low defence stat. This person was nothing like those players.

The first KO sent an icy chill down into the pit of his stomach. 

The second KO tightened a band across his chest, constricting like a straight jacket and preventing Keith from breathing properly. There was only ever one person who could beat him so easily, who had made a mockery of him so callously. He stood on trembling legs, unwilling (or unable) to put words to how he was feeling. He needed to see. Look his tormentor in the eyes. There was only one person who could beat him.   
  
Black was his opponent, Black was sitting on the other side of the machine, Black had just won.  
  
Keith's mouth was dry, heartbeat pounding against his chest like a caged animal as he extended to his full height to peer over the cabinet. Only Black was doing the same, smiling and extending his hand like it was a normal thing to do. Keith had obviously stared for longer than he realised, taking in every detail of the man opposite - the white forelock, delicate pink scar over the bridge of his nose, open and welcoming expression - because suddenly the man looked sheepish and withdrew his hand.  
  
'You're Red, right? The one with all the high scores on all of the machines?' Black waved his hand in the air, gesturing to the other games in the arcade and Keith caught the silvery glimpse of a metal prosthetic. Black obviously noticed where Keith's eye's lingered because he lowered his arm behind the machine and out of his view, and something clicked in Keith's mind; he'd pointed out something Black didn't like and upset him. The band retightened around his chest and Keith realised he should offer an olive branch.

'I am. You're Black, right?' Copying was a good plan, and Black's nervous-but-happy laugh and nod triggered a memory in Keith's mind. 'You go to my school, don't you? Altea High? I've heard you laugh like that in the corridors.'   
  
Black nodded again, his smile seemingly tattooed on his face. 'I do. I’m Takashi Shirogane, although everyone calls me Shiro.' Keith had definitely overheard other students mention a “Shiro”. Keith had never paid them much attention.  
  
He turned away, moving towards his bag 'I'm Keith.' No need to give some third-year his last name when the chances that they'd speak again after this encounter were slim.  
  
Or they would have been, if Mr Coran hadn't been intent on messing with his day.  
  
'How was it, boys? A good investment or should I ask for my money back?' A huge grin was plastered on his face and Keith's eyes narrowed. Mr Coran had let him play for free, he didn't like the thought of suddenly owing someone cash when there hadn't been the agreement of debt before hand. Even for only half a dollar.  
  
Shiro spoke first. 'They're fine, sir, really responsive and fun. I’m glad you chose this version too, the updates they've made make the gaming experience a lot more balanced and it makes it accessible to anyone without characters being locked behind tiers.' Keith watched him pat the top of the machine affectionately with his flesh hand. 'I think you made a really good choice, no need to ask for a refund.' The sound of his delicate laughter did something to Keith's stomach, and he stared at his rival with a knot between his eyebrows. Who was this person?  
  
'Keith, you look confused, is everything okay?' Mr Coran asked, his voice laced with obvious concern, and Keith tore his gaze away from the other student to meet his with a question.

'Did you purposefully set us up?' The edges of anger laced his voice and he felt the familiarity of the emotion wash over whatever _that_ feeling had been. 'So you could torment me with him?' His shoulders squared and fists clenched against his sides.  
  
Mr Coran looked visibly frightened. 'Not at all, Keith! I just needed my new machine's testing, and I thought the best way to give them a thorough test was to have my two best players go head-to-head!' Keith’s eyes narrowed at the answer and Mr Coran squirmed a little. 'I also thought it would do you some good Keith, Shiro is an actual challenge for you, you can play against him without having to worry about pretending to loose or beating him so easily that you upset him. This last week you’ve been more focused than I’ve ever seen you.'  
  
So that was it. He was a charity case even here. Gaming had always been his one escape. The only thing he’d been good at, and now that had been taken away from him he’d got nothing left except the pity of others.  
  
He didn’t want it. 'I don’t need you setting me up on some kind of… friend blind date Mr Coran! I was fine before _he_ showed up,' Keith pointed a finger in Shiro’s direction, ignoring the stunned expression on the upperclassman’s face. 'and now I can’t even have that, I’d rather be left alone instead of being forced to play with someone when I didn’t even know what I was getting into.'  
  
Keith pushed past the owner and out onto the streets, firmly intending to head home and never return to the arcade again.  
  
Until the sounds of approaching footsteps slowed alongside him.  
  
'Keith?' Black sounded cautious. _Good._ 'I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would be playing against you until we fought.' At his questioning expression, Shiro elaborated, his smile returning. Keith thought he’d looked odd without it. Keith then wondered why he’d thought that. 'I didn’t know I was fighting _Red_ until you kicked me across the ring. I chose that stage to see how the new area type system affected play, but it didn’t make it a fair fight against someone I’d been wanting to have a match with for a week.'  
  
'Yeah, well…' Keith shrugged the shoulder his backpack was threaded over, causing it to rise and fall with the action. 'It’s not really cheating if the game is designed that way, is it?'

The other boy didn’t answer for a moment. '…I’d still like to play against you properly sometime, in a fair fight.' Shiro spoke slowly, as if trying to keep a wild animal from bolting. '…Maybe tomorrow? Today was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, Keith.'   
  
He mulled the offer over as they walked. Truly, he’d been more emotional over the past week than he’d been in… months. The thought raced through his mind, had it really been that long since he’d felt anything with such intensity? The need to beat Black had consumed him, imagination conjuring all the worst of his bullies and caregivers into a twisted monster bent on humiliating him and snatching his only pleasure. In the flesh Shiro was nothing like that image, his face held none of the cruelty or sadism, his mouth had only been used for kindness. If he’d wanted to hurt Keith he could have pressed his victories onto him, twisting his own inefficiency into a knife. Instead, Shiro had offered apologies for winning. Sympathies for being too good, for using Keith’s arrogance as a weapon.  
  
That wasn’t the kind of pity Keith wanted either.

'I’ve run out of my allowance.' Keith stopped walking so he could face the other, his gaze flicking up to Shiro’s eyes before returning to his mouth, which was now pressed into a despondent line. He felt his gut twist uncomfortably at the sight, realising he’d messed up what he’d meant to say again. 'I did… enjoy playing against you, and I’d like to do it again, but I can’t until next week.' Relief flooded across Shiro’s face and something pulled at the corner of Keith’s own mouth.   
  
'Great! Let me give you my number and we can arrange to meet up next week then.' Keith handed over his phone and Shiro pressed his to it, confirming the contact swap with two clicks before returning it. He looked at the contact list, and his heart pulled into his throat at the sight of six contacts instead of the usual five, before he returned his gaze to Shiro’s face.  
  
But there was concern etched into that mouth now, and a quick glance up confirmed Keith’s suspicions. 'Keith? If I’m not there… if I don’t turn up, call me okay? I’m not brushing you off I just get a little sidetracked sometimes. Is that okay?'  
  
Keith wanted to brush him off, or to tell him that if he wasn’t worth turning up for he wasn’t desperate enough to chase Shiro. Instead, he nodded his head, and the relief that flooded the other’s face told Keith he’d made the right choice.  
  
'Monday, then?'  
  
Keith nodded. 'Monday.'  
  
As they broke away from each other Keith heard Shiro’s phone ring.  
  
_'Hello? I’m fine ma, I’m just walking home now. Yeah, I was just meeting a friend…'_  
  
A true smile had painted itself on Keith’s face as he walked.

_Monday.  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! I don't bite~
> 
> Tumblr: marcellaereeves.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/MarcellaEReeves


	3. Animation Lock

The following week were both the fastest and slowest Keith had ever experienced in his life. His foster parents had questioned him over dinner that first day, and seemed surprised that he’d actually made a friend. They were, of course, all false smiles and happiness, but Keith couldn’t actually disagree with their emotions this time.   
  
He had a _friend_. Shiro had called him as much over the phone to his mother, and it made a tentative bubble of excitement form in his stomach. Keith had known people before - in his early childhood he’d spent time with one or two other kids, but it had made him a target for second-hand insults. _“You’re not friends with him, are you?”_ they’d asked his friend. _“No? Why would I be friends with him?”_ his friend has answered, and he was left alone again.   
  
Then his behavioural issues had become too severe for his childhood cuteness to cover and he’d been expelled, pushed to another school. Pushed back to the orphanage, pushed to another school. Eventually, Keith saw little point in getting to know his classmates. They were curious at first, but quickly dismissed him as a loner in the schools he was lucky in. A freak when he was unlucky, because freaks got singled out and attacked, and Keith wouldn’t allow himself to be used as a chew-toy without breaking a few teeth along the way.   
  
The only reason he was still in Altea High was because he’d been branded a loner, and blissfully his new foster parents had given enough of an allowance to go to the arcade regularly. It had given him something to focus his energy and talents on. More importantly, it kept him out of trouble.   
  
And so had the plan of playing with Shiro. That thought especially carried him through the long days without any change to vent on _Legendary Defender._ Frustrated boredom in English had melted away into curiosity when he saw Shiro running cross country, a sheen of sweat covering his brow but otherwise seemingly fine. The scowl slipped back on his face when it was a good two minutes before he saw the rest of the senior's class drag themselves past, looking decidedly worse for wear. _Was he just fucking good at everything?  
  
_ Keith stuck to his routines just as well as he ever had, and saw nothing intentionally of Shiro. But he couldn’t help what he’d encountered unintentionally of Shiro. Whilst he was waiting for History, clear peals of laughter had bounced down the hallway and Keith’s stomach had clenched uncomfortably. He’d been eating lunch behind the Science block when he’d caught Shiro’s eye from across the playing field. Shiro had waved to him, and Keith had been too dumbstruck at being acknowledged at school to reply before Shiro had been tackled to the floor by some short thing with dirty-blonde hair. When he climbed back to his feet he’d completely ignored Keith and focused on the small guy, and so Keith was sure he’d fabricated the entire interaction.  
  
Even though the days had been unbearably long, the week itself seemed to speed by, and before he knew what had happened he was facing the end of Monday. The subconscious knot of panic at potentially being stood up had suddenly started becoming very, very known as of Friday night. It had built steadily over the weekend, and the whole of Monday he’d been unable to think of anything but that. Outside of Shiro’s contact details on his phone and the three texts they’d exchanged confirming their plans, Keith could have completely invented the situation. His life had been almost entirely normal. And that just gave credence to the nagging thought that he was going to be the butt of some elaborate joke.   
  
Stepping out of class, he’d pulled up Shiro’s contact details, stalling briefly because the photo on the card was almost completely different and yet entirely the same to the person he knew. This Shiro was smaller and without the scar or the white patch of hair… his smile was shy-yet-confident but genuinely happy. Keith had suspected that some of the times he’d seen Shiro with his friends those expressions had been somewhat forced, but in the photo, he’d had none of that. It was almost like looking at a younger brother or a cousin of his friend. Keith brushed the observation aside, choosing to assume Shiro hadn’t updated his phone’s contact details in a while.   
  
His thumb hovered above the call icon, before he steeled himself and pressed it.   
  
After a few moments of ringing, Shiro answered.   
  
‘ _Hi, Keith. Is everything okay?’  
  
_ Keith tensed, calls were always difficult. Maybe because so often he was being told off over them.   
  
‘Yeah, Shiro… Are we still meeting today?’ Two girls from his class squinted their eyes at his conversation, and he suddenly got the feeling that perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned Shiro’s name so loudly.  
  
 _‘Of course! Unless you don’t want to? I’ve been looking forward to it Keith, but I won’t able to make it to the arcade for another ten minutes - I’m still in school.’  
  
_ ‘No, I’m still at school too. I just wanted to make sure that you were still coming before I walked all the way there.’ Perhaps _“that we were still meeting up”_ would have sounded less accusatory. The knot of panic reared its head again as Keith realised how woefully inadequate he was at talking to his peers.   
  
‘ _Look…’_ there was a pause. ‘ _Why don’t I meet you at the school gates, and we can walk together?’_  
  
Keith considered the proposition. On one hand, if he met Shiro at the gates and there was a group of jocks waiting for him to humiliate him, he’d have to face his shame in front of everyone walking past.   
  
On the other hand, if he met Shiro at the arcade, Shiro could lead those jocks to the only safe space he had left and humiliate him there. And he was sure Mr Coran would leap to his defence and only make things worse with his painfully flamboyant behaviour.   
  
He sighed, resigning himself to his only real option.   
  
‘I’ll come meet you at the gates.’  
  
  
—

  
When he arrived, Shiro was leaning against the gate post with his arms mostly crossed, except for the fact that one hand was scrolling through something unseen on his phone. Keith stood before him, thumb fiddling with the strap of his backpack hanging messily over one shoulder, and Shiro looked up. For the briefest second there was a hazy confusion in Shiro’s gaze, and visions of humiliation flashed before his eyes. But it cleared, and Shiro beamed at him as he stood. 

‘Ready to go Keith?’   
  
Keith gave a sharp nod, ignoring how giddy shivers were trying to overcome him by focusing on everything but that as they walked. That choice seemed to be a mistake, as suddenly everyone seemed to be hyper-aware of him. He noticed the two girls from earlier staring at him and making no effort to hide the fact that they were whispering conspiratorially with a third, new friend from another class rotation. He swore mentally, cursing himself for not having trusted Shiro to meet him at the arcade like they’d agreed. Being intentionally ignorant of people at school had been a measure of protection - if he didn’t know anyone then he couldn’t get involved in their politics. The loner tag had suited him well, he’d stayed in school and out of trouble. And yet here he was, walking to the arcade with, what Keith suspected, the most popular guy in school.   
  
Panic was starting to build in his chest like a rapidly inflating balloon. Everywhere he looked people were starting to look. Shiro seemed blissfully unaware, head facing the sky as he took in the way the leaves on the trees were gradually turning orange. Keith slowed his speed in an attempt to put some distance between them, trying to seem as if he wasn’t walking _with_ Shiro, just _coincidentally_ walking in the same direction as each other. All that did was snap the senior out of his reverie and stop him walking whilst he waited for Keith to catch up.   
  
‘Is everything okay, Keith?’ The softness in that question surprised the standard “I’m fine” he always had prepared right out of his mind.  
  
‘Shiro…’ His grip on his backpack tightened. ‘…you’re… _well-known_ , aren’t you?’ Keith couldn’t stop the distress lacing his accusation, and yet Shiro seemed to get the message, looking around and seeing all of the students pretending not to look. He watched as something sharpened behind Shiro’s eyes. 

‘I am.’ He said it with such resignation that it seemed to be an admittance to himself more than an answer to Keith’s question. ‘But people will always gossip Keith, it’s what happens when they don’t feel comfortable with themselves and want to seem more interesting. If you haven’t heard anything said about you yet it doesn’t mean they haven’t been saying it, it just means they haven’t been saying it to your face.’ 

He knew, of course he knew. That was why he always controlled the amount of interaction he had with people, but Shiro continued anyway, guilt smearing his brow in an ugly stain. ‘For what it’s worth Keith, being “well-known” doesn’t mean a thing. I wasn’t ever that interesting until I became a walking freak show.’ He waved his hand and Keith saw the shine of metal again. He wanted to ask, but the term “freak show” iced in the pit of his stomach.

Something settled in his mind; a decision made without his consideration, and he followed it. ’Let’s keep going, Shiro. I still have to be home on time, and I want to kick your ass properly before I have to go.’ 

Keith couldn’t understand how that made Shiro laugh so happily but he whipped his head over to watch. There was relief in his expression, but more than that there was joy and… something else?  
  
‘You mean like you did last time?’

It was a joke, banter between friends. Keith knew that, and yet that other emotion Shiro had shown finally clicked. Relief, joy, and _competition_. He narrowed his eyes, cocky smirk glancing the corner of his mouth as he looked up. ‘Didn’t you say you cheated last time? I just want the chance to put you in your place without unfair handicaps.’

Shiro chortled ‘Put me in my place? What, first place _again_?’ 

By this point, the pair were jogging, and Keith’s smirk broke into a grin before laughter finally bubbled up his throat when Shiro broke into a full run and Keith sprinted after him.

  
—

  
When they finally tumbled into the arcade they were both a panting mess, though Keith was considerably worse than his older schoolmate. He was designed for sprinting, and they’d started the race a little too far away for Keith to keep the advantage he’d won. In the end, they’d arrived at the same time and Keith had used all the sharpness in his elbows to get through first, whilst Shiro had manhandled him away, using his weight to lift and pull Keith from the door. He couldn’t say he minded, being lightly crushed by Shiro had been somewhat pleasant. 

Mr Coran seemed torn, unsure if they were actually fighting or making friends, but when Shiro rightened himself from his crouched position and clapped Keith on the back with a grin he understood, beaming at the pair like they were his children.   
  
‘Good afternoon Mr Smythe.’ Shiro said with such conviction, Keith was sure there was a fourth person in the arcade. Instead, Mr Coran returned the greeting and Keith was so utterly confused he interrupted the owner asking how they both were.

‘-What do you mean Mr Smythe? Who’s Mr Smythe?’

‘Why my boy, _I’m_ Mr Smythe. You didn’t actually think Coran was my last name, did you?’ It was spoken with such obvious humour that Keith felt anger’s familiarity wrapping over his shoulders - at himself, for misunderstanding the introduction, and at Mr Coran, for assuming his stupid first name made any sense as anything other than a last name.

Before he could vocalise his infuriation, Shiro had stepped between them. ‘We’ve been looking forward to playing on those new consoles we tested last week Mr Smythe, are they free?’ 

Coran took the opportunity for what it was. He’d seen enough of angry Keith over the past two weeks to last him a lifetime. ‘They’re right over there boys, you two are the first ones in, did you run over?’

Keith let Shiro answer as he slipped past the two and started heading towards the multiplayer section and sat down, shrugging his backpack off and digging around the compartment for his allowance. His foster parents had given him change, probably because they were trying to make sure he was really going to the arcade after school, but the downside was that he’d been jingling all day and he had to lift up books to make sure he had every coin. Hopefully, he’d still have some left over after playing with Shiro, aware of how important it was that he always had a release for his stress.

He watched Shiro move to the other side of the console, smirking as he passed. 

‘Ready, Keith?’   
  
Keith met his gaze, throwing arrogance back in defiance. ‘I’m not the one stalling. Unless you’re worried about your precious reputation?’ He knew he didn’t really have any ground to stand on, but Keith would never admit his weaknesses.   
  
The cocky grin Shiro wore disappeared behind the machine seconds before his own screen lit up, prompting him with the option of joining in as an opponent. He inserted a coin and confirmed, moving to the character select screen. Keith momentarily considered using a different character, but as it was a rematch he chose Akira again. Shiro had the same thought apparently, only their player cards appeared over the training stage instead of the arena, and Keith pulled a grimace. How was he supposed to improve if he was being babied? He’d rather struggle against insurmountable odds and improve quickly than have his hand held.  
  
Still, he rolled his shoulders as the loading screen gave way to the stage, this wasn’t just anyone he was facing. If he could learn anything from Shiro on an even playing field he’d use it against him. Right now he needed to focus.   
  
Shiro didn’t play around this time: the second he could move, Champion ran and slid into a low kick. Keith barely had time to react, not expecting such a dramatic shift in fighting styles despite having prompted himself to be open-minded. Akira jumped at the last second and Keith took the chance to turn the movement into an attack, coming down into a harsh stomp on Champion’s face before jumping away. Again, Shiro’s character was stuck in an animation lock and Keith took a few more low kicks before the other could roll away.   
  
The rest of the fight went much the same way, with Akira’s speed increased and Champion’s agility taking a hit due to the level, and Keith found himself winning the first round still with half his life bar left, wondering if he’d been sick a week earlier to loose to Shiro. The difficulty he’d been replaying since their last encounter suddenly seemed fictitious, his victory inevitable, and as the next round commenced he let his ego get wrapped up in the emotion.   
  
It was a mistake.

His confidence had lured him into a trap so perfect Keith was sure Shiro had lost the first round intentionally. He watched on in horror as Akira’s body was used more akin to gym equipment than a threat - the ninja was repeatedly picked up and thrown at any chance Champion got to counter or even just open grab. It was humiliating to the point that the second round only lasted so long because the training ring didn’t have any walls to compound the damage Champion was dealing him. 

It left a bitter taste in Keith’s mouth that they were sat at one-all, and yet he didn’t feel like he’d won even a single round yet.   
  
This time, he determined to make use of his first plan. He’d use The Champion’s long animation locks. He’d been watching youtube videos for a breakdown of his opponent’s combos and hit areas and had mostly remembered them. It helped when he couldn’t afford to play games, and his foster parents hadn’t minded him using the computer in the living room to do his research.   
  
When the final round screen faded he forced himself to keep Akira still. He’d wait for a chance to use his knowledge against Shiro.

This last round would be his.

It was Champion that took the first move, running forward again and Keith dropped Akira into a low guard - only the expected kick didn’t happen, Shiro had assumed something and made a grab instead, Champion swiping at the space Akira had been a moment earlier. Keith took his chance and kicked, bringing Champion down to the floor. The fight was dirty, filled with low kicks until Keith swept Champion up into a juggle combo, determined to take as much of his opponent’s life down before the computer would force him to drop the combo. 

When the inevitable happened, Champion writhed on the floor whilst Keith jumped up to land a stomp where Shiro would inevitably roll. But Champion suddenly found the ability to recover from his animation lock quickly, and the mid-air grab and throw he unleashed on Akira had Keith wondering if the whole thing had been a farce. After that move, he didn’t trust Shiro as far as he could throw him, which by the way Akira was being pummelled wasn’t very far or very often. The whole time he’d lied to Keith by choosing not to recover from his attacks quickly and faking the animation lock - and Keith, ever the eternal fool, hadn’t known any better and _had trusted him._  
  
Instead of being simply thrown to the side, Champion had kept him close and dropped him onto the floor before using his fully powered charge attack to repeatedly slam a fist into Akira’s face. By the end of the onslaught, the purple energy had removed so much of his life bar that all Shiro needed to do was shoot a quick kick to Akira’s side as he stood to win the fight. 

Keith stared at the KO screen with his mouth ajar. He stood, peering over the machines and meeting Shiro’s beaming expression. 

‘You were lying about how long The Champion’s animation lock was!’   
  
At least Shiro had the decency to look abashed. ‘I wanted you to think it was a weakness…’  
  
There had been so many traps and false promises in Shiro’s play style that Keith struggled to remember how many times he’d been misled. ‘That was from last week though!’ He was unable to keep the volume from his voice.   
  
‘Well, yeah,’ He said. ‘I didn’t get a chance to use it last week and it seemed a shame to seed a trap just to throw it away.’ Still, the smile was present, and Keith found he was now mirroring it.   


‘Just how many traps do you have?’ 

The cocky smirk returned to Shiro’s face then. ‘Why don’t you find out? Best two out of three?’

Keith checked the amount of change he had left in his pocket before nodding and sitting back down. The next few fights were much more evenly matched, as Keith realised he’d exposed all of Shiro’s traps. Even with that suspicion Keith still made sure he didn’t get cocky, missing some opportunities that also came with a potentially high risk. Sometimes it paid off, as Champion made a counter to a move that never came and Keith could use the opening to attack. Other times they both stood awkwardly guarding against each other for a second before the fight resumed. 

Being that Akira was a “pressure” character, patience was a difficult lesson for Keith to learn. Yet he learned it well enough for the second fight and it left them on an open footing. It also meant Keith suddenly let his confidence overpower him for their third fight, Shiro punishing him for wanting to finish Champion off quickly by exploiting his attacks with counters.   
  
And yet…

At the end of their fight, Keith found himself grinning. His chest heaved and his hands were sweaty and shaking but he’d completely lost himself to his opponent and the game. When Shiro came over to shake his hand he took it, and Keith found the upperclassman’s laughter blooming in his own chest too.

‘Shiro, I…’ He felt amazing.

‘That was… incredible Keith, I’ve never met anyone that can hold their own against me before, not like that.’ There was something unreadable in Shiro’s eyes, and Keith found his gaze shifting to his mouth so he didn’t have to think too much about whatever _that_ was. ‘you’re even good enough to be part of an e-sports team.’

Keith was so surprised he couldn’t help but take a step back, only to realise he’d still been holding Shiro’s hand. He dropped it as if it burned him. ‘You’re not serious.’ And yet even as he spoke Keith knew he stood a better chance at trials than most. Shiro seemed to hold the same opinion if the firm expression that was being thrown his way was anything to go by. ‘-A-and what about you? You spent the last two weeks handing me my ass, why aren’t you running around playing internationally?’ 

Whatever reaction he’d been expecting, the way Shiro suddenly looked like he was about to break wasn’t one of them. Before Keith could speak, Shiro replied. ‘…I was going to my interview when I had my accident. Now I can’t play in any official capacity because of my hand; at some point, someone’s going to complain that it’s given me an unfair advantage, or worse, that I’ve been using it to cheat directly.’

‘But that’s ridiculous!’ Keith couldn’t stop himself, only this time the rage welling up inside him was for someone else. ‘You wouldn’t cheat! You wouldn’t even let us play in the arena because it gave you an unfair advantage and that’s part of the game!’ He pulled his fingers through his hair, scrubbing down his scalp with his nails to help release some of the tension he was feeling but otherwise unable to look at Shiro at all.

That was, until, Shiro put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Thank you, Keith. I was sure you’d ask me if that’s how I’d won our fight earlier.’ A frown painted itself on Keith’s face at that, not liking the flavour of the assumption. ‘Most people wouldn’t be as thoughtful…’

After a pause, Shiro continued. ‘I really enjoyed hanging out today. I know it’s a little expensive to go to the arcade every day, but I really want to see you again.’ Keith was sure being chased for plans constantly put him in some kind of debt, like he was supposed to make suggestions to hand out too. He’d not had such a long conversation with one of his peers the whole time he’d been at Altea High, and now he was beginning to realise just how woefully inadequate he was for the whole thing.

‘Why don’t you come over to my house tomorrow, after school? We can meet up a few streets away from the school so you won’t have to worry about anyone gossiping about me hanging out with you, okay? I’ll tell my ma and you tell your parents and you can stay for dinner.’ Shiro made the whole “Talk to people about stuff” look so painfully easy that Keith wondered if he’d been worrying over nothing.

He nodded in confirmation, and then with a second thought about his observation added ‘Sure, that sounds great.’ Even if Shiro was just trying to protect his own reputation it still relaxed Keith to think they’d be away from the prying eyes of his classmates. ‘Do you still want me to ring you if you don’t show up?’

Relief flooded Shiro’s expression as he started scribbling something into his phone. ‘Yes, please,’ He slid the stylus back in the side of the phone as he spoke. ‘I’m not brushing you off, I’m just easily distracted.’ Keith waited for the other to stow the device into his uniform jacket’s inner pocket before he shouldered his backpack and started heading for the door. They faced each other for a moment before Keith nodded.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, Shiro.’

‘See you tomorrow, Keith.’ A quick grin was thrown in his direction as a parting, and it made his stomach and heart clench. His emotions were fighting each other and his abdomen seemed to be their battlefield. On one side was his sadness at parting from the first person Keith might consider friend-worthy in years. On the other was his excitement at going over to Shiro’s house the following day. He gingerly rubbed his chest before lifting up his bag from where it had started to slip down his shoulder.

One thing was certain: school tomorrow was going to be hellish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies! Chapter 4 took a while longer to write, so much that I'm considering doing a Netflix and breaking the future chapters into smaller chunks so they can be released faster. Hmm...
> 
> As always
> 
> Come say hi! I don't bite~
> 
> Tumblr: marcellaereeves.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/MarcellaEReeves


	4. Kokumeikan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. I forgot to mention: This fic is set slightly in the future, about 2042. Shiro's mother was born in the year 2000, for example.

Keith had been right about one thing: Tuesday was a living nightmare. 

His loner reputation had vanished overnight, and he suddenly became the focus of gossip and rumours that chased him around the school. When he walked into his first class and instantly the teenage din went quiet, twenty-five pairs of eyes on him suddenly. He made his way to the back of the class, throwing his bag down and kicking it under his regular seat before dropping onto it.

As the quiet chatter began to resume, Keith released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. It was a close call, but perhaps he’d been imagining the quiet a few moments ago. Perhaps he’d been imagining the eyes of people on him.

Perhaps…

The taller boy in front leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto two legs and entering his personal space. It was irritating, but he _was_ going to let it slide… until the other boy spoke.

‘Soo… you and Shirogane…’

A pit of dread formed in his stomach, swallowing any hopes he had of a normal day. He could lie, he’d done that before as a child. Usually, it ended up getting him in more trouble when they found out, but Shiro had said they could meet away from the school. At the very least, telling the truth was completely off the table. 

‘I heard you two went home together last night.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Any reason you’re so buddy-buddy with him all of a sudden?’  
  
Who was this guy? A classmate of some description, obviously, but Keith was struggling to place a name to the brown hair and sulky face. ‘We found out we have a mutual friend. We were helping him out with his shop.’ It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. At least this way he hoped he wouldn’t be caught out too badly

The boy looked disappointed with his answer, dropping forward so the feet of his chair hit the floor with a _thud_ just as the teacher walked in. By the time the bell rang, Keith wasn't entirely sure what the whole lesson had been about, too focused on thoughts of gossip chasing him again. 

He tried to rationalise it, tell himself he was being paranoid, that there weren't eyes following him through the corridors. But the unnerving sensation of being watched clung to his skin like a film of sweaty grime. He couldn’t help but roll his shoulders, adjust his backpack. It wasn’t even a hot day, and yet he already wanted to crawl into a shower and scrub himself clean.

By first break, Keith was exhausting his hiding places.

The sensation hadn’t abated during middle period, and so by lunch, he was seriously considering Vaping with the idiots behind the sports block; at least it would give him an excuse to hide from people, albeit an illegal and damaging one. 

He didn't see Shiro again that day, purposefully ignoring the places he knew the other would be, and he hoped Shiro wouldn’t try and find him either. Friendship was nice, but a small part of Keith wondered if it was really worth the effort. Shiro hadn’t done anything to deserve his doubt _yet_ , but that only meant it was a matter of time. Keith was just going to enjoy the ride until the older boy ditched him, but that didn’t mean he could afford to go throwing away his life again to engage. He couldn’t get expelled from school again, and he couldn’t lose his foster family. Not yet… not when he knew there wouldn’t be another.

The classes after lunch seemed to go by a lot easier, although Keith was sure that was because he’d just become more resilient to the stares and whispers than them reducing, and so by the time he was walking down the drive towards his and Shiro’s meeting place, he was feeling a lot more optimistic. 

He debated calling Shiro before he’d arrived, but since there were too many people around he held off. Shiro had seemed able to manage his social life enough to meet Keith last time, and part of him wondered if the other was just being paranoid; he put everything in his phone after all. Yet it was hard to ignore his imagination driving into him ideas that he was easily forgettable.   
  
As Keith rounded the corner, he was sure he felt his heart physically raise itself a few inches higher. Shiro was leaning against the wall of the shop, arms folded, phone in hand. (Briefly Keith wondered if that was his resting animation, and then he smirked at his own joke.) He looked up as he saw Keith approach.   
  
‘Ready to go?’ He was smiling again as he spoke.

Keith nodded, returning that eternal smile with one of his own, and Shiro beckoned behind him with a nod of his head ‘This way. You remember to ask your parents if you can come over?’ 

‘Yes.’ They’d seemed happy, yet still somewhat cautious, agreeing only on the condition that James could pick him up. ‘I’ve got to go before eight, though.’

Shiro seemed happy enough at that, so Keith followed beside him. Most of the time he found himself looking at the ground whilst he walked - much better to avoid unwanted eye contact and potential conflict, playing Pokemon had taught him that lesson. But as they walked, he found himself naturally overtaking his friend, and so he had to find things to do so he’d slow down. 

One of those things was looking at the other. Shiro seemed content to walk in silence, looking up again. There were no trees on this street for him to be examining this time, and the sky seemed to be a pretty dull, overcast grey. Keith couldn’t find the attraction in staring at such a boring colour.   
  
Suddenly those eyes were turned on him, and Keith shoved his gaze back to the path ahead. He hated being caught doing something awkward, and staring at someone certainly classed as that - the sharp increase of his pulse was proof enough. Although… he found himself suddenly thinking that grey things weren’t as boring as he’d initially assumed.   
  
‘So…’ Shiro was going to call him out, tell him to get lost for being so weird, he knew it. ‘…do you have any other hobbies, other than playing arcade games?’ The relief that flooded Keith system was like anaesthetic, tingling through his veins with icy needles before fading completely and leaving him numb. He’d been an idiot, why would Shiro have acted like that when he’d been nothing but kind so far?

He considered the question. Did he actually have any hobbies, outside of playing arcade games and trying to avoid fights? Did his love of knives and flames count as a hobby? No that was more of an interest. ‘I don’t mind setting fire to things.’ Well, until his lighter had been confiscated two foster families ago. Since then he’d had trouble finding so much as a _craft_ matchstick in any of his placements. It wasn’t that he liked burning things, just that fire was pretty. Why was that so bad?

Howling laughter jerked his head over, and he watched Shiro leaning back, hands on his hips. A reaction Keith couldn’t understand or even begin to, but he did notice how his face pulled into a smirk instead of the expected frown. Not anger or humiliation, and Keith found himself wondering who this strange person was.

‘Keith, you got to warn me before you deadpan like that, I was expecting you to say crochet or something.’ 

He didn’t know what crochet was, but it made Shiro grin like an idiot, so he considered taking it up.

The rest of the walk to Shiro’s house was spent in easy conversation, something Keith wasn’t used to navigating successfully, but it seemed to go by without too much stress. The walk was further than he’d imagined, and by the time they arrived the sky had taken on the murky bleakness of approaching dusk. 

‘I’m home!’ Shiro said as he opened the door, toeing off his shoes. ‘I think we have some slippers if you’re uncomfortable walking around in socks.’ He was searching through a cupboard as he spoke, before pulling out a pair victoriously. ‘Here!’  
  
Keith looked at the offered slippers, bright red, robotic-looking lion-shaped, small enough to fit him, and he raised an eyebrow. Shiro seemed to notice, because he was quick to offer an abashed explanation of how they were from some cartoon he watched as a child.

‘My ma won’t throw anything of mine out if she can help it.’ He seemed to be filling the silence as Keith took off his shoes, rambling and rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Though I only stopped wearing them because my last growth spurt made my feet too big. - they’ve been cleaned though, so don’t worry.’ 

It didn’t really matter, he was wearing socks, and Keith truly was glad he’d picked a matching pair today, even if the end was wearing dangerously thin, and threatening to form a hole. Just as he was wiggling his toes to settle his feet in the slippers, an older woman walked into the hall.

She was small, thin, with a wispy aura about her as if she wasn't quite corporal, but her eyes held the same piercing steely grey that Shiro’s had. Flecks of white marred her dark hair, making her look older than she was (or her face made her look younger than she was, Keith wasn’t sure).

‘You must be Keith, I’m Takashi’s mother.’ At this, she bowed a little, and for some reason Keith found himself bowing too. ‘Takashi’s been speaking about you endlessly for a week, you’ve made quite an impression on him.’ If she smiled, Keith didn’t see; he’d already turned to face Shiro, wide-eyed in disbelief as pink dusted the other boy’s cheeks, looking at something in the corner of the room with a lopsided grin on his face, “ _…ma…_ ” spoken in protest.

But Keith already felt his cheeks burning in response as he tore his gaze to the floor, warmth painting his stomach as if he’d drunk a glass of hot water. Shiro had told his mother about their meetings, and it had been about good things. Distantly he noticed Shiro shuffle away into one of the rooms just off the hall, but he found it hard to be uncomfortable at being left alone with his mother for some reason.

‘I really like playing with him.’ He offered, though if it was to Mrs Shirogane or the silence, he didn’t know. Vaguely, he wondered if it was odd Shiro liked to be called half of his last name instead of his first like everyone else Keith knew, and he also wondered why. ‘I’ve never found someone who can beat me before it’s…’ What was it? What was that feeling? ‘…nice. - _really_ nice. I don’t get to play with people for long before they start getting upset that they can’t beat me, but when I win against Shiro it makes him laugh, like he’s glad I won? And it’s just… a nice feeling.’

The smile he wore was growing painful, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making him look like an idiot, but Mrs Shirogane seemed to understand, smiling too. Before he had the chance to try and embarrass himself further, Shiro returned, two pouches of orange juice and a bowl of fruits and vegetables in his hands.

He nodded his head towards the stairs before starting to head up, and Keith made to follow him, waving his hand at Mrs Shirogane as she bowed again. Keith found himself copying her once more, and then frowning at what little self-control he seemed to have around this family.

‘I thought we could use a snack and some juice whilst we play some games until dinner is ready. What do you think? This is my room, the toilet is that door by the way.’ He gestured towards the door opposite the one he was opening with his elbow on the handle, revealing a small but bright room. It was clean and tidy, and everything seemed to be organised or displayed carefully. A single bed was pressed into the corner and against the wall, with a bookshelf filled with games, books, and some small figures on the wall above it. Even the posters on the wall were hung with a military precision.

Where other boys Shiro’s age would have pictures of pouty-lipped women scantily clad in bikinis on their walls, Shiro’s preferences were decidedly more digital. Images for various games or MMO expansions hung near artistic black-and-white photos of high-end computers. Any doubts Keith had that he was some closet jock were quashed when he saw an image of the inside of a gaming PC, purple milkshake coloured coolant winding between shiny graphics cards and LED lighting strips. In the centre of the wall was by far the largest poster - a giant monstrosity for e-sports legends Team Daibazaal, their moniker imposed over their strange impressionist logo.

‘I was travelling to my interview when I had my accident. You know that.’ He did. ‘But it was to Daibazaal…’ It was offered so casually that Keith was almost surprised to see the agony lacing Shiro’s face as he gazed at the poster. Almost. But, he wondered, if Shiro was the kind of person they were willing to hire, it was no surprise they’d been world champions for the past ten years. And Shiro thought he had what it took to stand by his side?

He would have laughed, if Shiro hadn’t looked so pained.

As it was, he didn’t really know what to say. 

Almost though he could sense his apprehension, Shiro took the strain off him, coughing behind his hand in a way that Keith recognised as trying to break the awkwardness of silence. ‘Say, about those games… wanna play one?’ He’d nodded towards the bookshelf as he spoke, and Keith followed his gaze.

He nodded, glad for the change in subject. ’Sure, what did you have in mind?’   
  
‘Uhhh… I’m pretty open…’ Shiro was now scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he spoke. ‘Why don’t you pick something while I set up?’ **  
  
** Keith looked through the shelf of games, tracing his finger over the spine. Most of the titles were foreign, however, little symbols making up words he couldn't possibly begin to understand. 

'Do you have any two player games?'

Shiro came by and leaned over him so his chest was dangerously close to Keith's back. Before he could feel upset at being crowded, Shiro had reached a hand over his head and plucked a game from the many. The box was waved in front of his face.

'This one? It's Japanese but you don't really need to understand the story to beat me. That is if you're okay with gore?’ As he spoke, Shiro checked the back of the box, squinting. ‘Oh! It has English subs, is that okay?’ 

Keith nodded, before he followed Shiro’s lead and sat on the bed opposite the TV. The PlayStation 4 beeped as it was turned on, fans whirring into life and dragging a nostalgic smirk to Keith’s face. In an age where machinery was cooled silently, the quiet hum of old technology was an almost foreign sound, yet one he was sure he’d heard more often as a child.

He was handed a controller and logged into the guest account Shiro had set up. The game asked for an update but Shiro declined, shrugging his shoulders at Keith’s questioning look. A few clicks had the menus set to English, and Keith was able to understand when Shiro chose two player mode.

‘You want to practice a little bit?’

‘Uhh…’ Keith found himself getting a little distracted watching Shiro nibble on a carrot stick. ‘I don’t know, we can do? I don’t think I’ve even seen this game before.’ 

So they practised, at least for a few rounds whilst Keith picked up the controls. The gore element wasn’t as bad as he was expecting from Shiro’s description, being so overly cartoonish it made Mortal Kombat look realistic, but the puzzles were addictive. Even though he found himself completely outclassed by Shiro’s ability to strategise and his experience with the game, Keith still managed to snare over half of Shiro’s human charges in a single trap at one point. (An act which had Shiro laughing for some reason.)   
  
Yet, despite the brutality of the game, and the vegetables-and-juice-as-snacks, Keith could honestly say that here in this moment he was happy. The feeling inflated his chest like a balloon, softening his frown and pulling at the corners of his mouth. The warmth Shiro radiated from his arm wasn’t just physical, and Keith was caught up with the realisation that truly, he had a friend. Someone who wouldn’t attack him and who didn’t mind spending time with him. Who invited him over to his house and brought him into his room, and who didn’t push him to talk about his home life or why he was in foster care.

He didn’t notice when Shiro left the continue screen without an answer, but he did notice his gentle smile mirrored in the face of the older boy. The overcast sky didn’t dull the gentle dusting of pink that graced his cheeks either, and Keith didn’t ignore the way Shiro’s head lowered a little. 

He ignored how he tilted his own head back, and he ignored how his eyes never left Shiro’s own.

‘Takashi! Dinner is nearly ready if you and your friend want to set the table?’ The sound of Mrs Shirogane’s voice broke whatever spell had cast itself over the room, and Keith tried not to wince as Shiro bolted upright, turning the TV and then the PS4 off.

He followed his friend down to the dining area, pulling out placemats from where he was shown and arranging them in front of three of the four chairs at the table, trying not to imagine what could have happened if Shiro’s mother hadn’t interrupted.

‘My dad is working away at the moment.’ Shiro had explained. ‘Keith do you want chopsticks or a knife and fork?’

‘What are you going to use?’

Shiro scratched his chin, pondering the question before he answered. ‘Probably chopsticks, unless it makes you uncomfortable?’

Keith shook his head, wondering why Shiro would think that, before answering his first question. ‘I’ll use chopsticks too then.’ No reason to be treated differently, besides, he was a guest - that was the proper thing to do, right?

Shiro nodded and set out the pairs so that their ends were resting on little ceramic cats. His mother’s choice of _Ohashi_ rest, he’d explained, and Keith had told him they were cute. (His was a ginger tabby cat, whilst Shiro’s was a big fat black cat with white socks, and his mother’s was a stripy grey cat, tummy up with its paws in the air. They really were cute, and Shiro had stopped looking quite so embarrassed.)

They’d also helped Shiro’s mother bring out the food, and Keith found himself surprised at just how many things there were to eat. Once again, Shiro had seemed embarrassed. ‘I think she’s not used to having guests…’ and Keith could only wonder what he meant because there wasn’t a single thing he didn’t like the taste of. Although tasting didn’t happen as often as he’d like, and before long he found himself scowling as one of the chopsticks performed a majestic flip over his thumb before landing on the table.

His friend was smirking as he picked up the fallen stick, pressing it into Keith’s hand and rearranging his fingers with careful precision. Not only had he embarrassed himself by possessing all the grace of a child at the table, but the feeling of Shiro’s hands against his felt entirely too intimate when his mother was watching them from across the table. The guilty expression he cast at her was met with a twinkling of amusement. 

‘…hold them further up, like this,’ the chopsticks were dragged through his grip a little. ‘you’ll have more control. Try it now.’ He obliged, moving the tips to pick up a small sphere of rice. The ball wobbled, and for a horrifying moment, Keith thought he could see a face of evil in the grains. But success was his that day as he managed to push the ball into his mouth without incident.

And for the pure look of joy Shiro wore at that victory, Keith decided he’d take the previous humiliation a thousand times again.

After that, dinner went by a lot better. He was still slower eating, but the food tasted so nice he only found it a little irritating. He wouldn’t have tried most of the food if he’d been offered it before, but under the social pressure of being in someone’s house, he found himself trying everything, and enjoying most of it.

Except for whatever that yellow sliced pickled stuff was. He carefully avoided eating any more of that than the first terrifying mouthful, scooting the pile to the corner of his plate.

And both Shiroganes seemed to find something about that terribly amusing, if their expression was anything to go by.

By the time Shiro stood to take away the plates and bowls, Keith was feeling overly full and a little sleepy, but he still stood to help, thanking Shiro’s mother on the way to the kitchen. There he found Shiro pulling on a pair of pastel purple rubber gloves (complete with faux fur trim) whilst the sink filled with hot water. The image was so unlike anything he expected to walk in on that he couldn’t help but guffaw at the sight.

‘Really?’ The embarrassed blush that crept all the way to Shiro’s ear made it very difficult for Keith to regain his composure. Even biting his upper lip didn’t ensure his victory against the grin trying to rip its way across his face. ‘No, no they look good Shiro. Purple really suits you.’

‘You’re an ass.’ At least he was smiling now, and that only made it impossible for Keith not to laugh again. A pair of pink furry gloves were thrown at him. ‘Just for that, you can dry.’

The pair spent most of the time elbowing each other as they worked, enough so that the job ended up taking twice as long as it should have, and when Keith jabbed two of his fingers like a knife into the delicate space between Shiro’s ribs, (retaliation for having had a handful of bubbles rubbed on his face) the resulting yelp had Mrs Shirogane poking her head around the door in concern, before frowning and letting them get on with it as they laughed.

When he finally reached Shiro’s room, the first thing he did was make a running dive for the bed. Eating so much and then laughing even more had exhausted him, and Shiro’s house seemed warmer than anywhere he’d spent time before.

‘You should be careful Keith, don’t want the neighbours knowing all it takes to get you into a young man’s bed is free food.’ Shiro sat down as he spoke, pushing Keith’s feet to the side so he could make room for himself.

_‘What young man?’_ He’d meant to ask, or perhaps _‘It’s kind of sad using your mother’s cooking as a wingman, isn’t it?’_  

Instead, he’d yawned so painfully and ungracefully, tears had beaded on his lashes. Whatever about that had made Shiro chuckle he didn’t know. ‘You can have a nap if you want, I have some English revision I forgot about anyway.’

Keith nodded, too tired to be a decent person and refuse, and instead he curled up on his side, gently pressing his face into the pillow. He couldn’t help but smell the blend of aromas that rose up from it, even if he wanted to. A combination of laundry powder and cotton sheets, mixed with (and he found himself smiling at the knowledge) anti-dandruff shampoo and some kind of aftershave that Keith’s easily irritable nose didn’t seem to mind much at all.

Before he could think anything more than that, his thoughts were being disturbed by the sounds of writing. He opened his eyes, only to find that the bedside lamp was on and the sun had completely set. Confused, he sat up as a yawn caused him to scrunch up his whole face.

‘How are you feeling?’ Shiro’s voice was soft as he spoke, and Keith found him in the same place he was in the last time he checked, only this time Shiro was leaning against the wall with his feet on the bed and using his thighs as a table for his notebook. How was he feeling? Well… well rested for a start, and also mildly suspicious that he’d fallen to sleep so easily in a foreign bed, especially when he’d only known Shiro for a couple of weeks. It took Keith a moment longer than he’d like to admit to notice Shiro was now wearing glasses. ‘What do you think? Matt said they make me look like I belong in an advert for Teludav Opticians.’

He looked so proud of himself that Keith couldn’t help but grin and nod. ‘I heard models get paid well too, so it’s got to be nice to have a backup option.’ Shiro winced, and Keith instantly realised his mistake. ‘Shit, Shiro I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine Keith’ He said, forcing something like a smile back on his face. ‘I mean… you’re right, at the end of the day.’ Shiro tapped the end of his pen against the page. ‘Actually, I’m glad you brought it up. I wanted to talk to you about what I said yesterday. About you being good enough to playfor an e-sports team.’

Keith didn’t want this conversation. Ultimately he’d been the one who raised it, and now he was being punished for his mistake. ‘Shiro, it’s fine… Those kinds of people are always in the public eye; on TV or signing autographs. I’m not sure I could deal with the pressure.’ It was tempting, visions of being paid to do something he did well and enjoyed - as a job, even. The celebrity didn’t matter to him either way, but the appeal of spending his days facing people who gave him a challenge, people like Shiro…

That was alluring. 

…But it would mean living in a dream Shiro had birthed. In all good consciousness, he couldn’t do that. Friends didn’t do that.

‘Keith, you’d be great, and I think you’d really enjoy it.’ He’d put down his pen and was holding Keith’s gaze with a strange expression that he couldn’t crack. Maybe pride? Regret? But the intensity fixed him in place and had him opening and closing his mouth like a fish. ‘Better than wasting your talents and time getting qualified for a job that you hate.’ 

No, it was bitter determination. He saw it in the mirror every morning when he was getting ready for school. It had just taken Keith a few seconds to recognise it on someone other than himself.  
  
But he couldn’t. As tempting as the dream was, he couldn’t take this from Shiro. He didn’t mind - the thought hadn’t even occurred to him until Shiro had mentioned it, and there was no way he was snatching someone else’s future without having wanted it on his own first.  
  
Just as he opened his mouth to state his point, the sound his name being called upstairs by Shiro’s mother. Shiro checked his wristwatch, mumbling with a sigh that it was eight already, before placing his homework down and making to stand whilst Keith was already getting up. Honestly, he was glad for the interruption this time.   
  
Shiro followed him down to the front door where one of his foster parents was standing, waiting for him to exchange the old red lion slippers for his school shoes before he grabbed Keith around the torso and into a tight hug.   
  
Before he could do more than stare dumbly Keith was pushed away by the shoulders, finding guilt on Shiro’s face.   
  
‘Sorry Keith, I should have asked.’   
  
Absentmindedly he assured Shiro that it was fine, that he hadn’t minded the hug, and the abashed look quickly cleared before he was shaking James’s hand, introducing himself probably, yet Keith was finding it hard to process with his thoughts so occupied with strong arm and firm chest and anti-dandruff shampoo and aftershave and-  
  
A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts, and he snapped his gaze up to Shiro’s.   
  
‘I’ll see you tomorrow at school then, Keith’ Shiro said, and Keith nodded and agreed before thanking his mother for having him over and following his foster father to the car and sitting in the passenger side.   
  
Whatever _that_ had been, it was terrifying. He buried his face in his hands and took a steadying breath to organise his thoughts.   
  
No, the confusion came from him not being used to having a friend. It was new, and so naturally he’d be associating more complex emotions with simple friendly endearment.   
  
Which was fine. He looked out of the side window, watching house after house slip by and painfully ignoring the imploring glances James kept shooting him, answering his questions about how the evening had been and if he’d enjoyed himself as simply as he could. He _had_ enjoyed himself, and the evening _had_ been great. He just needed to reign in his hormones a little.  
  
For his own sake, he couldn’t afford to lose the first friend he’d made in years just because he couldn’t keep himself in check.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at school Keith' o v o)/
> 
> 'See you, Shiro' ;ó//v//ò)/
> 
> \--
> 
> SO the final chapter count might be around the 8 mark - we're halfway through the story (yayay!) And some things happened in chapter 5 which I thought might happen in 6 or 7, so that stopped this fic being a terrifying 16 chapter monster /o/ Plus I've been getting some writing advice and tips that really helped me get down C5 outline pretty quickly (even though it's going to be short, please forgive ú n ù;) 
> 
> It seems like I don't have a clue what I'm doing - actually, everything is written down in my planning book. I just don't know how many chapters there will be because the breaks happen naturally SO I'M NOT JUST WINGING IT AHAHA ._.;
> 
> If you liked this, please consider leaving me a comment! I <3 comments so much and just cry tbh.
> 
> And I have a [Tumblr](www.marcellaereeves.tumblr.com) so come say hi, I don't bite!


	5. Star Ocean

Keep himself in check.   
  
Right.  
  
He already stopped himself from getting into fights, what was one more thing?  
  
Apparently, it was a huge thing, if his difficulty going to sleep that night was anything to go on. By the next morning he was so overtired he had difficulty focusing on his cereal. James commented, worrying if he’d gotten sick overnight. The offer to take the day off school was refused, however. Keith might have a reputation for being kicked out of schools, but it was never because of poor attendance.   
  
It didn’t mean that while he was in class he was paying attention though. And even without his lack of sleep or intrusive thoughts about how nice being hugged by Shiro had felt, Keith still had been thinking about the e-sports stuff to keep his attention occupied away from class.   
  
Whatever argument he could come up with to prove Shiro wrong, three or four more crept up in their place to prove him right. In the opposite direction, every thought of fame and glory were cut with the memory of Shiro’s pain while gazing at Daibazaal’s poster. Ultimately, he realised, his reluctance only came down from not wanting to hurt Shiro.  
  
And that was enough of a reason. Any of his excuses were for Shiro’s benefit, to ease him away from the idea, so Keith didn’t have to be the knife in his wound.   
  
With that resolution in mind, he headed away from his usual spot at lunch, turning towards the fields behind the science block where he knew Shiro and his group of friends would be. Sure enough, there was a small group of them. Shiro, the blonde that he’d seen before, and another with darker brown hair sat on the floor, who looked similar to the first. He didn’t recognise them outside of that. The final person in the group was that tall girl he’d seen walking around school, with the hair she’d somehow managed to make look like white candy floss with bleaching. (He wondered if she’d bleached Shiro’s hair too, since his contact picture on Keith’s phone had fully dark hair.) Keith couldn’t remember seeing them together in school, though he’d not particularly paid attention, a pang of something uncomfortable still twisted his gut as she laughed at something Shiro had said.   
  
And then Shiro’s eyes were on him.   
  
His stomach knotted.  
  
’Keith!’ Shiro jogged over to him, wearing a smile that cleared the sky, and somehow crept onto Keith’s own face too. ‘We were going to get lunch, did you want to come?’   
  
The thought made him uncomfortable, and Shiro seemed to sense that, though he’d misunderstood why. As they greeted each other, the rest of Shiro’s friendship group came over.   
  
‘Keith, this is Matt, Allura, and Katie.’ He gestured to them all in turn. ‘Katie is in your year, I think?’ She nodded, appraising Keith’s own face with suspicious scrutiny. ‘Katie skipped a few years so that’s why she’s so short.’ Shiro playfully dodged the swipe and accompanying cry of _hey_ with a laugh, before clapping her on the back.   
  
Matt and Allura both introduced themselves, with something effortless and graceful from Allura’s part, and something confident yet casual from Matt. Something Keith, with his sharp angles and sharper tongue would never have any of. But they seemed friendly enough, so when Shiro and Katie returned their attention to them, Keith didn’t feel too much like he’d been abandoned.   
  
‘Keith, we were going to get some lunch, you can join us if you want?’ Shiro didn’t seem as hopeful when he asked this time, but Keith nodded, to himself, at what he had to do.   
  
‘Shiro, can I… talk to you for a second?’ He gestured with his eyes to a more abandoned corner of the field, and Shiro’s gaze followed before he nodded and led him over.   
  
Keith took a breath to steel himself, and Shiro waited patiently until he was ready. ‘I really enjoyed going to your house yesterday, but I can’t… compete. I know you wanted that for me Shiro, but I can’t play tournaments.’   
  
Shiro didn’t answer for a few moments, arms folded as he studied Keith, and more than when Katie had looked at him, Keith felt like he was being judged. Shiro sighed, shoulders drooping, a little before asking;  
  
‘Why?’  
  
Keith couldn’t lie, but the truth of “I don’t want to hurt you” felt sour in his mouth. It was pity Shiro wouldn’t want or appreciate, so he didn’t answer for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts.   
  
‘I just…’ He couldn’t meet Shiro’s eyes, so he kept his gaze fixed to the side, at the rest of Shiro’s friends. They were watching, and trying not to look like they were doing so. Keith swallowed, throat dry. ‘I just can’t. I’m sorry, Shiro…’ The corners of his eyes prickled, and he sighed to control himself at the same time Shiro did.

‘Is it because you’re scared?’ That was enough to snap his attention back to Shiro, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing. ‘So, you’re not scared then. Worried?’ 

Even when Keith had disappointed him, Shiro still wanted to help him. Once again, Keith was lost for words, choosing to look at his shoes. Worried was right, but probably for the wrong reasons.   
  
‘Well, I can help you. Train you up, if you like?’ Shiro didn’t know the reason for his hesitation, but he still considered the proposition. It would mean he’d have an excuse to spend time with Shiro, but he’d also be trained to become Shiro’s replacement. From the corner of his eye he saw Shiro rub his hand over his jaw. ‘Plus it would work out for me, I’d still be able to take part in tournaments as your coach, so that would be nice…’  
  
As a coach, Shiro would still have his future in gaming. He’d be out of the limelight, which didn’t sit well with Keith, but he’d still be able to take part in the scene. Still be able to earn a living as a gamer. People always wanted coaches, teams from across the world, perhaps even Daibazaal. There was no doubt that Shiro was world class as a trainer, so Keith latched onto the idea with ferocity  
  
So he nodded, the corner of his mouth lilted into a smile. ‘Alright.’ He answered, face finally breaking into a grin as he thrust his hand out. ‘It’s a deal.’

Shiro took the offered hand, equally wide grin on his face as he shook once, twice, before pulling Keith close. Once again he was cradled by Shiro’s strong arms, the aftershave on his collar filling his nose only for a second before they broke apart again. 

Keith’s heart was still rabbit fast in his chest when he was asked ‘So what about lunch?’   
  
Shiro had such hope as he looked down at Keith, still connected by their handshake. Keith wanted to nod, to say _“Yes, I’d like that, thank you.”_   
  
Instead, he shook his head, offering a small ‘I have plans already.’ Lying was awful, but it was still better to eat alone than let others see him hanging around with some of the most popular kids in school when he’d already started to attract attention. ‘Maybe if it was sunny.’ They would have all been able to eat outside. But as it was, Keith was going to eat in one of the less used corridors until the bell rang for his next class.   
  
Though a painful part of him protested, especially at the brief crestfallen expression Shiro wore, but it was covered so quickly that Keith didn’t have time to dwell on it. ‘Well, okay. You know where to find us if you change your mind, okay?’   
  
Keith nodded and watched as Shiro headed towards the others, turning back and waving at him as they walked towards the dining hall. Keith raised his hand weakly in response before turning to head to one of his quieter areas.  
  
They hadn’t come up with a perfect solution, but outside the science block, on a day threatening rain, Keith promised himself one thing: he’d give Shiro the future he deserved. He’d work on his technique so much that people would stand and give his mentor the recognition he deserved. The world would take notice of Takashi Shirogane.   
  
—  
  
Despite that, Shiro still found time for them to be together after school, three times a week. The first time they’d sat down in the school library and drawn up a study plan, combining enough time for them to both do exam revision and practice video games. It was the first time Keith had planned his life to such detail, but Shiro had just shrugged and called it simple compared to the ones he usually used.  
  
‘I plan everything now. It helps to keep me focused on what I should be doing now, what I have to do next.’ He leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his pen against the table. ‘I even write down when I’m supposed to be hanging out with you, just so I don’t plan something else in the same space.’   
  
He also accompanied that statement with a wink so cheeky Keith had to look down at the colourful plan, noting that even meal times had been listed in bright green boxes. A thought struck him, an observation of the few times they’d met after school. ‘Why do you always talk about forgetting things? You’re one of the most organised people I know.’

But instead of laughter, or Shiro playing off the skill with embarrassment, there was silence. Keith looked up to see Shiro staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.

‘Well I…’ Another pause, and his friend sighed through his nose, though somehow it seemed more like a learned breathing exercise than something involuntary. Shiro blinked. ‘After my accident…’ He sighed again, and Keith watched as he looked at his lap, at his hands. At his hand. ‘So, well I was in a coma for a while, and when I woke up…’ The fingers of his prosthetic clenched into a fist before relaxing. ‘I couldn’t remember anything new for a while.’   
  
Keith felt lead sink in his stomach, suddenly glad he’d never told Shiro not to bother if he was “so easy to forget”, like he’d wanted to after their first meeting. He wasn’t just bad with his peers, he was a selfish person to boot.

‘I mean a lot of it was from brain swelling,’ Shiro continued, and Keith listened in with horrified curiosity ‘when that went down I could remember for longer and longer. But it’s funny… when you forget things, you have no way of knowing you were supposed to have remembered something in the first place.’ It didn’t seem funny, and neither of them were laughing. 

Keith placed his hand on Shiro’s arm, feeling the hardness of metal covered by his uniform, and Shiro rested his flesh hand over it and squeezed. ‘I write everything down, so I won’t forget something important.’   
  
He fixed Keith with his gaze then.   
Keith held it this time, throat tightening a little before he looked down, choosing to stare at a freckle above Shiro’s thumb instead. He was thinking too much into the meaning, and his blush was definitely thinking too much into it. At a loss for words, but Shiro seemed surprisingly okay with the silence. Another squeeze to his hand, before Shiro was pulling away and Keith could reclaim his hand. The skin on the back tingled. He cleared his throat.  
  
‘Was it painful? The car crash?’   
  
Shiro cut him off: ‘Train.’  
  
‘Huh?’   


‘It was a train derailment, and I don’t remember the crash still, but after it was a little painful. I kept getting weird headaches. I still do, sometimes…’   
  
But Keith had stopped listening, running the information through his head. There had only been one train derailment in recent years that he knew of. He remembered seeing the areal images of the maglev train sprawled sideways across the ground on TV when James and Monica had first been talking to him. Some of the carriages rent and torn while the reporter had described the suspected cause. A loose section of the track, if his memory served him right. People had died in the accident, and Shiro had nearly been one of them.  
  
It was like being doused in icy water. He could hear his name being called, but his vision had gone fuzzy, and he surged forward, cutting Shiro off by wrapping his arms around Shiro’s head.  
  
Shiro paused, before raising his arms and clinging to the fabric of the back of Keith’s shirt.   
  
They stayed like that in silence for a while, Keith’s eyes closed and still unable to stop his tears. Shiro nuzzled against his shoulder, hands stroking down his back, and it made Keith sniffle and pull away to realise he was the one being comforted.   
  
‘Hey, hey… it’s okay…’ Shiro wiped a thumb over his cheeks, drying tears that hadn’t been collected on his clothes. He sat back into his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face in his embarrassment to try and clear the evidence of his sadness, but he could see the faint traces of a blush and smile on Shiro’s face, so he turned away to the sheet.   


But no matter how much he stared at the brightly coloured boxes, he couldn’t clear circular thoughts of the things his friend must have gone through. 

‘Keith…’ There was a knot in his voice, and he heard Shiro cough. ‘Your biggest weakness is that you get so focused on attacking that you don’t notice when you’re walking into traps. But it’s something we can work on together, okay?’   
  
Keith nodded, glad that the obvious change in subject pulled him from his intrusive thoughts of Shiro in a hospital bed. The school librarian had started going around all the windows and closing them, quietly indicating that it was closing soon, and so he stood after Shiro did, taking the planner and folding it into his bag.   
  
But he turned when a hand was placed on his shoulder, and then he was being pulled into a hug.   
  
Soft and gentle, it was unlike the others and Keith’s palms were flat to Shiro’s back, their breathing synchronised. He tightened his grip, forehead pressing to the column of Shiro’s neck and feeling his steady heart beating over his eyelid. Shiro pulled him closer in response, the pressure taking comfort and offering it in return.   
  
Keith sighed, and he would have been content to stay wrapped in his arms for hours, if the librarian hadn’t chosen that moment to cough. They broke apart with a jump, Shiro rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture somehow now familiar but that had started twisting something in Keith’s stomach.   
  
‘So we’ll meet on Friday then, right?’ Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, after school. Keith nodded as he backed away slightly. ‘Right well… we can walk together down the drive.’ Shiro nodded to himself before picking up his bag, but still somehow avoiding meeting Keith’s eyes.   
  
Which Keith was glad for, it meant he didn’t have to miss the way Shiro’s face had turned red. He swallowed, before starting to head out of the doors, Shiro following after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's ya boi~ 
> 
> So re: This fic. Long wait between last chapter and this - it's cool I'm still working. C5 has been ready this whole time but it needed some revisions as, within the last two weeks I've decided the plot point I was trying to force I'm gonna give up on. Something something trying to make a technically perfect story instead of focusing on what makes me happy: two dorks playing video games. There's still gonna be a plot but this one point I was going to do.. I'm not going to anymore. 
> 
> Hopefully that makes sense?
> 
> This story was making me miserable when it had made me only happy before - and I'm starting to feel optimistic again! I'm super happy, I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I have been <3


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